


Down Into the Valley of Tears

by misura



Category: Terra Nova (TV)
Genre: Community: smallfandomfest, Gen, Pre-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-26
Updated: 2014-06-26
Packaged: 2018-02-06 07:48:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,019
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1850125
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/misura/pseuds/misura
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Taylor and Wash in Somalia.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Down Into the Valley of Tears

**Author's Note:**

> prompt: _Taylor, born leader_ (nickymoon)

" _Choose_?"

Wash's face revealed nothing. "Sir," she said.

"They expect us to _choose_?" Repeating it wasn't going to make it any less true, he knew, but saying _they've got my wife and son_ wasn't going to do shit either.

Wash didn't say _Sir_ again. She didn't have to.

"Some sick bastards out there." A statement of the obvious, if ever he'd made one. Nothing new either; he'd been in Moscow before this. Sri Lanka. Los Angeles. The list went on. Somalia was just going to be the latest addition. 

It might almost be enough to make a man stop believing in the general decency of mankind altogether.

"We choose, we play their game," Wash said.

A muscle twitched in Brumby's face. No wife or kids out there - at least, none that Taylor knew about. Girlfriend, maybe. Boyfriend, possibly. Taylor tried not to pry too much. A solid aim, a strong stomach and the ability to go for at least two days without food or sleep, that was all he asked.

(It had been close to five days now, and their water wouldn't last for another week, assuming they'd take some pretty desperate measures.)

"We don't choose, what do you think they're going to do?" he asked.

"I don't know, sir," Wash said, which was bull, and they both knew it.

"We've got no food," he said. "No meds. Water's already running low."

If the relief force didn't show up in the next three days, it wasn't going to matter whether or not they'd saved some of the civilians by giving in to a bunch of animals with guns. They'd all be dead, anyway.

"Three days," he said, knowing Wash'd be able to fill in the rest.

Of course, there was no guarantee whatsoever there was going to be a relief force. It happened sometimes; he'd been there. Some higher-up in some safe office weighed the potential costs against the potential profits and decided that the odds just weren't good enough.

They called it 'looking at the bigger picture', which was fair enough, Taylor supposed. Your picture was big enough, you didn't need to look anyone you killed in the eyes. Nice and easy.

One more reason he was never going to make it general.

"A lot can happen in three days, sir."

He'd played lousy odds before. Engaged an enemy, knowing they outnumbered him two to one, or worse. "You think I should do it, Wash? Be honest."

Brumby glanced in the direction of the door. Not enjoying being all up, close and personal to the commander showing some human weakness, probably.

Taylor jerked his head. "Give us some privacy, will you, Brumby? Lieutenant Washington tries to kill me, she'll probably have a good reason. No need for you to get caught in the crossfire."

"Sir, yes, sir." Brumby looked relieved.

Taylor considered calling him on, essentially, agreeing that if his commanding officer were to get shot by his second-in-command, it'd be his own damn fault.

Never mind that it was true.

Sitting down behind what might charitably be called a desk, Taylor reached for his bottle of whiskey, then remembered he'd donated it to the medics two days ago.

"I can't think straight," he said, and there, good thing Brumby wasn't here anymore. "They were supposed to be safe, Wash. A long way from all this. Not ... God."

"Sir," Wash said. Her expression was inscrutable.

"It'll be hell on morale," he said. "Absolute hell."

"Yes, sir." Still inscrutable, but different now. More determined. She'd be calculating supplies, mentally mapping their territory, finding places for the hostages to sleep. Not so close to the perimeter they'd be easy to snatch again, but not so close to the men to put them at risk, either.

You left a group of people in enemy hands for too long, chances were, some of them were going to get turned. Pressured beyond their breaking point.

Taylor had seen the psych wards in Mozambique; he knew.

"Thirty-six hostages," he said. "Out of what? A hundred?"

Wash didn't flinch. "More, probably."

_They've got my wife and son._ Wash and him'd gone over the terrain before. Studied it till they could probably travel it blind. Not many better things to do.

The conclusion had always been that waiting would be the smart thing to do.

The conclusion had always been that waiting would save lives, while attacking now would only cost them, and might very well still be not enough to get away clean.

Better to be pinned down and virtually prisoners than stuck in one of the camps as actual prisoners.

Of course, that still went. _Nothing's changed._ If anything, the odds would be worse, now. If Taylor'd been on the other side, and if he'd just delivered an ultimatum, he knew he'd be counting on some sort of break out attempt.

Desperate people do desperate things.

"Sir," Wash said, and there was a hint of something new in her voice. Something bad.

_Concern._ She was worried he'd do something foolish. Something desperate.

"We both know the odds," Taylor said. "And I have a responsibility. To the men."

"Yes, sir." Her voice was back to normal, her shoulders relaxing slightly. Taylor knew that tomorrow would still hit her, and hit her hard - as hard as it would him, likely as not.

Wash was a good soldier, a loyal friend.

"So I'll ask you again - " _because I can't trust myself to do the right thing. Not this time._ " - you think we should go along with this? Play their game?"

"Sir," she said, looking him straight in the eyes as she let him have the answer he'd known he was going to get all along - because their situation was, indeed, desperate.

"I'm sorry," he said.

"So am I, sir," she said, and then, because she'd known him nearly as long as he'd known Ayani, "try to get some sleep, sir. You'll need your strength."

_All the sleep in the world isn't going to make me strong enough. Not for this._

"You, too," he said, holding back the tears until he knew for sure that she was gone.


End file.
